Love is in the air

Maybell asked me earlier to bring a letter to Tommy Joe.  Of course I read it.  A true Capulet and Montague romance, apparently, although who exactly those families are is something that I just can't quite recall.  Naturally, I delivered the letter then spoke with Tommy Joe's Grandmother, as she purportedly had some advice for the situation.  She wanted me to collect a potion from the town, which seemed strange as they're already in love with each other.  What other potion could be useful in a situation like this?

I've mined a fair amount of copper, am becoming quite a chef, can make excellent first aid bandages and if I ever run out of trail food I simply stop by a river and fish something out for myself.  My growing prowess with the blade has been noticed and I have been asked to report to Lieutenant Horatio Laine in Westfall.  I also am quite the healer, calling upon the power of God in times of need.  I have two healing abilities that I can reliably use now, a minor one and a major one.

I could just slap him

I've been investigating mines, slaying kobolds, hunting wild boars, brigands, generally cleaning up the area and making it a more livable area.  Billy Maclure apparently stole a necklace, but wouldn't tell me where it was unless I hunted down some more boars, then brought some good meat to his aunt to be baked into a pie.  I was so mad, I could just slap him... although I didn't.  I do remember what I was like at that age and called of God I wasn't.  Besides, I'm hunting boars anyway.  I do have some delicious roasted boar meat that I've already cooked, but apparently it wasn't good enough for Mr. Billy.  But I'm letting my temper get a hold of me again.  Patience.

Speaking of boars, I saw the most amazing boar I've ever seen.  This boar's shoulders were higher off the ground than my head is.  I don't remember why I was asked to kill her, but when I thought of the hamhocks that would result, I didn't spend too long thinking about it.

A book at last!

I found a book today!  Kil'jaeden?  Ner'zhul?  Ner'zhul is apparently also known as a Litch King.  Merciful heavens, mind controlled zombies!  I read on, eagerly devouring this information about the northern lands.  Remind me not to travel into any snowy wastelands.  In other news, I traveled into the Elwynn forest and battled several kobolds.  I have been tasked to enter and search a mine that they have infested but I have not yet made it inside -- there are too many outside and I do not wish to leave any alive behind me as I dare not risk turning my back on these creatures.

I learn how to fish, amongst other things

Today, I learned how to fish.  No, I didn't have a fishing pole, but the theory of how to fish was explained to me and it really didn't seem all that difficult.  I inquired of where I might buy a fishing pole but my trainer laughed, "I teach people how to fish," he said, "I don't actually help you, you know, fish."

Slightly nonplussed, I began to ask around at the various merchants.  "Oh no," one of them said, "Fishing poles are expensive things, why no ordinary merchant like me would ever carry one of those.  You'll have to go to Stormwind for that."  Stormwind.  Again.  "And while you're there," he added, "You might as well learn how to skin an animal and how to mine for gold.  I can see by the cut of your clothes that you don't have much money and how better to get it than to simply dig it out of the ground!"  I heartily conquered and ran over to the griffin master with a much lighter heart.  These clothes are really rather revealing and although I prefer heavier armor, I don't much fancy the cold breeze that occasionally blows across my stomach as I run about.

So there I was in Stormwind, fishing up a storm.  I caught many fish and even learned how to cook one of them.  Apparently there is more to cooking fish than simply spearing them on a green bough and turning them over the fire until they're done, so I have only been able to cook one species of the fish I bought.  I hope to someday soon learn how to cook the other fish I'm carrying about with me.  I asked how long they would keep and I received some funny looks.  "Keep?"
"Yes, you know, how long is it safe to keep them in the sun?"
"Uhm, sorry, I don't follow you."
"Well, how long does it take them to spoil?"
"Why would they be spoiling as long as you aren't dragging them around in the dirt?"
"I, well, never mind, thank you."

The concept of rotten food seems foreign to these people.  As I traveled back to Goldshire, I stopped by various inns and looked around -- there were no ice facilities anywhere.  Nothing is kept cold and nobody seemed sick.  I don't understand it, and I'm really not sure where this concept of rotten food came from, my memory seems to be playing more tricks on me than usual.

Protecting the weak

I was running to Goldshire when I was beset by a mangy wolf.  Of course I beat it off but immediately afterward I was beset by a young wolf.  The mangy wolf had only been protecting its pup.  Such a trite setup, I felt bad for a moment, but then I really started looking around.  The forest has been stripped of virtually all wildlife.  As far as I could see, mangy wolves.  It was like some sort of wolf pet shop had exploded, releasing dozens of them into the wild in the same spot.  It was difficult to feel bad once I realized just how over hunted that forest was -- the wolves needed to be thinned out more to maintain the health of the forest.  Nevertheless, I am sworn to protect the weak so I did still cringe a little bit even the fifth time a mangy wolf and a young wolf attacked me.

Arriving in Goldshire, I was immediately tasked by Smith Argus with heading to Stormwind and returning with a crate of supplies needed supplied for weapon manufacturing.  I was manifestly not looking forward to a run there and back of that distance which is probably why he suggested that I take a griffin.  A griffin!  What is wrong with me that something which flows so easily from the lips of another seemed like such an oddity, a wildly fantastical creature?  Indeed, there was a griffin master behind the smithy who set me up on a griffin ride much as a doorman might set me up with a ride in a taxi.  The wind through my hair was marvelous and Stormwind certainly rivaled anything that I could have imagined.

Unfortunately, it more than rivaled anything that I could have imagined.  I soon found myself lost and it was only after repeated visits to a Champions Hall to ask for directions that I found my way back to the gryphonry.  I do not think I shall be visiting very often.

I have been noticed

The orcs noticed my attempts to quench the fires they'd set in the vineyards.  As I slew one, he shouted as he died, "The grapes were VERY TASTY!"  I stopped for a moment, frozen in my tracks.  I had slain every orc that I could find in the vineyard.  Were my actions already being bandied about by the orcs?  Was I, as they say, the talk of the town?  Surely not.  Although I have felt and heeded the personal call from God to take up arms in His name and proceeded to learn and train so that I might eventually rid this land of vile orcs, I had not felt that my actions really warranted such inspection on the part of the orcs.

I could, however, be making a mountain of a molehill.  Perhaps, accustomed to brutish food as he no doubt was, this orc had simply wanted to exclaim about a recent moment of joy in his life as his soul departed this world.  Should I have taken a lesson from that?  When was the last time that, instead of wolfing my food down so that I could more quickly return to my duty, I sat back for a moment and simply let myself enjoy the delicate flavors playing over my tongue?

What will my dying words be?  Will I exclaim over what I could have done, what I should have done?  Will I be happy, complacent, at peace?  Will I speak of friends or loved ones or journeys made or tasks left undone?  Perhaps this orc was wiser than I.  Then again, perhaps he was simply a muttonhead who loved grapes.  I must ponder this as I continue my journey.

Orcs and fire

I have a small moment now to record what has transpired in this diary.  Orcs attacked -- destroying the forest and burning the vineyard near the Abbey.  And this cataclysm that Millie spoke of, what is it?  I feel as though there is a strange sort of gap in my memories.  I remember my parents, I remember being young, but these people speak so familiarly of what must have been an enormous event.  To be entitled "the cataclysm" as though there has only been one cataclysmic event in the last few years worthy of the name.  I must endeavor to study more the next time I am at the Abbey but how can I know what to read, what questions to ask, when I feel shamed at even having to ask about what is obviously such a ready part of the lives of everyone I meet?  It is a problem that I shall have to set aside for another time.

As I wrote earlier, orcs had attacked.  I was able to fight them off fairly easily -- they were hardly tougher than the small wargs I'd encountered earlier and I wonder if they are considered little more than pests.  Surely these cannot be what our army marches out to fight?  The war would be over in little more than a day were such the case.  There are several vendors who've set up shop near the Abbey, selling armor, weapons, and supplies to those such as myself who feel called to action.  There are several others running about -- some have large pets, more wolf than dog were I to be pressed to name a species.  One fellow, Illuminater, seemed somewhat shifty.  I thought of joining his company but then thought better of it.

Despite his appearance, I would have joined with him to fight these orcs, but I am almost ashamed to have another person see me in my new apparel.  It is stronger, better crafted, yet it leaves my skin so open, so exposed.  The armorer who sold me everything else assured me that it would better protect me, but although I bowed to his superior expertise in such matters I am not quite ready to talk with and fight in the company of others.

I have been told of an orc named Kurtok who led the swarm of verminous orcs.  I go now to seek his head.